Pretty Fly For A White Guy
by Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: Our Hero Isn't Cool, but he fakes it anyway.


Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) by Jennifer "I Miss The Barnyard" Stoy Warning/Description: Dear Chris Carter, I am a thief. I borrow your copyrighted characters and use them to my own nefarious humor purposes. May you read this and your head fly off in horror, because after all, the story is named for an Offspring song and Jeffrey Spender gets the girl. 

All you nice reader types, I want feedback: jstoy@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu. 

Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) Part One: Our Hero Isn't Cool, But He Fakes It Anyway 

FBI Headquarters Washington DC 

"Mistair Ferrar of the CIA here to meet weeth AD Walter S. Skinnair of the FBI," the dark little man told the doorguard. 

"I'll need to see some credentials," the guard replied. Ferrar sighed and reached into his jacket, pulling out a large gun. 

"Fool!" Ferrar bellowed as the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover Building erupted with swarthy South American thugs. "Manuel! Carlos! Jorge! Secure the lobby and bring the hostages to the back. Jesus, you call all of the Washington media and tell them that I, Jose Ferrnando Mucho Testosterone Ferrarrrrr, have taken their pitiful Federal Bureau of Investigation hostage and I will execute everyone if I do not get the sum of 31 million American dollars and a free passage back to Patagonia within the hour." 

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers replied, busily taking hostages. 

"I don't think so, Mr. Ferrar," someone called suddenly from the doorway. 

"I don't think so, Mr. Ferrar," someone called suddenly from the doorway. 

"Who the hell is this little shit?" Ferrar whispered to his right-hand man, Bordello "Speedy" Gonzales. 

"Dios mio!" Speedy cried. "I think it is-- yes, it must be-- Special Agent Jeffrey Spender, FBI!" 

"That's right, Speedy Gonzales. Now I think it's time for you to meet-- my sister," Spender replied, pulling out his huge, fully automatic weapon. "Everybody watch out! We're going to have a fiesta!" 

Then, with a Xena-eque piercing scream, Special Agent Jeffrey Spender, FBI, opened fire on the anonymously Latin or South American terrorists and managed to take all fifteen of them out without hitting a single innocent bystander. 

He, unlike Fox Mulder, had good aim. 

Finally, after hitting Jose Ferrnando Mucho Testosterone Ferrar fifteen times and watching him fly through the air before dying terribly from the gunshot wounds, Spender lifted his gun and blew the smoke off of it. 

"Stone cold," he murmured. "Excuse me, people, no pictures, no interviews please, I have work to do." 

* * * AD Skinner's Office 9:30 AM 

"Agent Spender, I can't thank you enough for saving our lives this morning with that little Latin American incident," Assistant Director Walter Skinner said, his eyes bright with gratitude. 

"Think nothing of it, my good man," Spender replied. "I'm an American and an FBI agent. My job is to protect the good people of this country while upholding the law so that all of the world can realize the USA is the best place on earth." 

"Well, you've certainly shown time and time again that you're the best agent in the Bureau, Mr. Spender," Skinner replied. "And I hate to do this to you, but you're the only man in the Bureau up for the job." 

"What is it this time, AD Skinner?" 

"Well, it has something to do with the X-Files," Skinner said, making a face. "You know how that is. Agent Mulder couldn't find evidence if it ran up and bit him." 

"Yes, sir," Spender said with a little chuckle. "What's the matter this time? Little green men steal his gun?" 

"No, I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. Mulder claimed that a group of right-wing militant psychopaths are in reality, victims of a government mind-control test. So he did the liberal, open-minded thing and started talking to them. Well, they promptly took Agent Mulder and Agent Scully prisoner. I need you infiltrate the group, save Mulder and Scully, and prove that these wackos are stockpiling weapons so that we can bring 'em in. Are you up for it?" 

"Sure. I didn't have plans until tomorrow night anyway," Spender replied. 

* * * Inside the Lair of The Army of the Temple of the Seven-Elevens of Christ the Revelator and His Monkey Jojo... 

"Your conversion seems so sudden, Mister-- what's your name again?" 

"My name? I'm Johnny Spritzer, and all conversions are sudden. But I have seen the light! Christ and Jojo have given me a vision and I knew that I had to come to you, General Dipsom. My heart has been turned, and there's no changing my mind." 

"Your generous donation to our militia seems to indicate this. You're a good man, Private Spitzer. Welcome to the Army of the Temple of the Seven-Elevens of Christ the Revelator and His Monkey Jojo. You have an immediate job to take care of." 

"What's that, General Dipsom, sir?" 

"We have evil outsiders in the compound. They tried to subvert the troops, and their execution is planned for the morning. Your orders are to guard the woman outsider. Do you think you can do that, Private Spitzer?" 

"Yes sir, General Dispom, sir!" 

Spender strolled casually to the dark underground cell where Agent Scully was being held. Dipsom left the young agent alone, and Spender immediately unlocked the door and walked inside. He heard sobbing from the darkest corner of the cell. 

"Agent Scully?" 

"Yes?" 

"It's Special Agent Jeffrey Spender, FBI. Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here!" 

Scully sat up and her lovely face (for some reason, the usual Scully problems with crying didn't happen) shone in the dim light. 

"Thank God," she whispered. "He's crazy, Jeffrey." 

"Who's crazy?" 

"The *real* leader of the Army. It's not Dipsom. It's--" and her lips trembled ever-so-lusciously. "Him. That man, the one who smokes the cigarettes. He's behind all this." 

Spender's eyes narrowed. "Him. It's always him. Well, don't worry, Agent Scully, we're going to make him pay for this. Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine. I have a couple of bruises from trying to protect Mulder, but otherwise I'm okay, but--" 

"But what?" 

"I'd be a lot better if you kissed me." 

"Agent Scully?" 

"I know, I'm not beautiful or anything, or really very smart, but I can't help it. I want you to kiss me!" 

Spender walked over to where the beautiful petite redhead was sitting and kissed her, a long, deep kiss that promised so much more. 

"You're beautiful, Dana. And smart. Now, do you know where the smoking man has his headquarters?" 

"Upstairs, third door on the right. Be careful, Agent Spender. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you." 

"I'll be fine. And call me Jeffrey." 

"All right-- Jeffrey." 

He kissed her goodbye and hurried upstairs, where *he* was waiting. 

"You," Spender hissed, walking into the office with his semi-automatic aimed at the man's head. "You're behind all of this." 

"Yes, my son," Cancerman replied. "I am. But don't you see? I'll use the army to take over the government, and then I'll rule the world! You could be right there with me, too!" 

"I'll never join with you!" 

"Then prepare to perish," Cancerman replied, pulling out not a gun but a light sabre. Spender, who had been expecting this, dropped his gun and pulled out his light sabre and-- 

"AGENT SPENDER!" 

"What, Diana?" Jeffrey Spender said, suddenly realizing he was still sitting in the X-Files office. 

"You've been ignoring me for the past fifteen minutes. Care to share where you were?" 

"I'm sorry, Agent Fowley. I was just pre-occupied," he said vaguely as he cut off Cancerman's head with his light sabre elsewhere. 

"Well, you better get un-occupied because we need to talk to AD Skinner about our latest case." 

"Of course, Diana," Spender said, drifting off again. 

* * * AD Skinner's Office 

"And so, I killed the cigarette-smoking man, found evidence that linked the Army of the Temple of the French-Speaking Monkeys to every major terrorist organization on earth, and also managed to rescue Agents Mulder and Scully." 

"You da man, Spender," Mulder said from the corner. 

Spender smiled. "Anyhow, I hope that this case report will be acceptable to you, AD Skinner, sir. And now, I'd like to request three days of vacation time?" 

"Special Agent Jeffrey Spender, you can have as much time off as you need. By the way, the Attorney General called, and you've been promoted to ASAC. Congratulations." 

"That's wonderful, sir," Spender replied, slipping on his black Ray-Bans. "See everyone later, I'm on a little vacation. Keep America running, okay boys?" 

"That is one super agent," Skinner said as Spender closed the door and strolled to his cherry-red, perfectly restored, detailed, white-leather interior 1965 Ford Mustang. Dana Katherine Scully, wearing a black leather miniskirt and dark-red sweater, sat in the passenger's seat, waiting. 

"Are we all ready to go?" she asked. 

"You and me are heading to Miami, baby. Sun, sand, and all the adventure your little heart can handle. What do you say to that?" Spender asked as he got in the car. Scully grinned and leaned over towards him. 

"Sounds like it's going to be hot," she whispered in his ear. "Let's go." 

Grinning like a wildman, Assistant Special Agent In Charge Jeffrey Spender, FBI, turned over the engine on his Mustang and started blasting the radio, which screamed as he and Agent Scully roared down the streets of Washington DC-- 

"And my friends all say I'm pretty fly for a white guy..." 

THE END 

"Jeffrey!" 

"What?" 

"I'd wipe the drool off your face before presenting the report to AD Skinner, okay?" Fowley said, stalking in front of him. Idiot. Even at his weirdest, Fox Mulder was a lot better than this. 

END Part One. Prepare for Part TWO, where someone else gets to play at this. 

Send feedback to jstoy@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu 


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